


Until You Come Back To Me

by oddgit



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Kissessss, Lots of it, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 17:42:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12462675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddgit/pseuds/oddgit
Summary: "Then he finally managed to choke out, “John.” The panic was a deluge of ice water surrounding every limb, creeping higher until it passed his mouth and nose."





	Until You Come Back To Me

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of like If-Then-Else but a John and Harold version. 
> 
> Special thanks as always to M_E_Lover for the beta!

There was shooting. Too much shooting.

The five of them were taking cover behind a parked car on the side of the street.

Harold closed his eyes and swallowed hard; he pushed his glasses up off the bridge of his nose. He knew this wasn’t good. They may not get out of this one.

John was next to him and Harold could practically see the wheels turning in his head, trying to figure out their next move.

Then he saw it.  

The look.

The exact look he got on his face when he pulled his gun on Harold on the rooftop.

He looked at Harold.

Harold shook his head, “No. Don’t even think about it.”

“Harold. I have to.” It was more of an apology than a declaration.

Harold’s breath started to come short and he got an ever-sinking feeling in his chest. Like the world was about to explode and he was watching it all happen. His heart was hammering inside his chest like it belonged to a rabbit running for its life.

John went to stand up, but Harold grabbed his wrist without even realizing he had moved. John snarled and looked back at him with pleading eyes. Eyes that said _‘Let me do this. I need to do this.’_

Harold shook his head again and gripped John’s arm tighter. Refusing to let go. Harold’s eyes had tears in them as he croaked, “You don’t have to do this…”

John brought both his hands to Harold’s face and held him there for a moment, silently looking at each other while chaos and fear enveloped them.

John kissed him. Hard and desperate. Like it was only he and Harold. No one else was in the world. “Yes, I do…” he whispered. There was a flash of distance in John's eyes as he took a step backward, before he looked at Shaw and suddenly, Harold was being held back by two small but strong arms.

John stood up and started to walk away. Walking straight into the line of fire to provide enough time for the others to get away.

Harold’s breath came short. He felt an intense amount of pain all over like something was squeezing him. He couldn’t speak. Couldn’t move. It felt like something was sucking the air out of him, pulling the ground from beneath him.

Then he finally managed to choke out, “John...” The panic was a deluge of ice water surrounding every limb, creeping higher until it passed his mouth and nose.

Shaw grabbed him and forced him to his feet. Fusco and Root provided some cover fire while they all made their way to a car that was parked 10 short feet away.  

“No!” Finally, everything clicked and Harold started to fight more fervently against Shaw’s hold. “He promised. He can’t do this. He can’t leave me!” He tried desperately to pry her fingers from his arms but failed. Tears of frustration filled his eyes and he could only get in short clipped gasps of air.

“Harold. He did this to save us… to _save you.”_ She flashed him a sad smile and started to push him toward the car again.

Root and Fusco were about five feet away from them when Harold was pushed against the car and Shaw opened the door.

He looked back one more time to see John get hit. A single bullet to his leg. He went down and Harold jumped forward, trying to run after him.

But he was grabbed from behind and thrown into the backseat of the car. Shaw slammed the car door shut and Harold scrambled for the door handle but it was no use, Shaw and the others were already in the car and they sped off without another word.

#

Harold limped back to his computer in the subway as fast as he could. He threw himself into the chair and brought up as many surveillance feeds as he could find from the area they had left John at.

He brought up one from a bodega down the street, a perfect view of the firefight.

Root and Shaw made their way over to stand behind him.

“Harold…” Shaw put her hand over his that was resting on the mouse. “Are you sure you… want to see this…?”

“See what?” He turned around and glared at her. “See him die?”

After she was quiet and just stared at him for a while, a look in her eyes that he had never seen before. A look that said, _‘I’m sorry. But I would have done the same thing. If he had let me.’_

Harold turned his chair back around and clicked play on the video screen. His chest ached as he watched John get shot the first time. It hit him in his left thigh… sending him to the ground.

But then he got back up and kept shooting.

He got hit again… this time in the shoulder.

Harold blinked when the tears turned his vision blurry.

John moved the gun to his other hand and kept shooting as he ran out of the frame.

Harold yelled, “No!” He put his hands to the screen like he was trying to grab John. Trying to bring him back.

He desperately searched for another camera angle but they all showed the same thing… John walking out of the frame and then nothing…

“No… It can’t… There has to be _something_ …” Harold murmured, his brow furrowed and a tear ran down his cheek.

“Harold… he’s gone…” Shaw said quietly, her hand placed on his shoulder. He knew what she was doing. Trying to get him to accept it.

But he would not accept this.

“He hasn’t made contact through our channels… it’s been hours and…”

“Will you please… stop…” Harold whispered, tears streaming down his face and his hands clenched into fists. There was suddenly an emptiness that seeped into the pit of his stomach.

Shaw stepped back a bit, and Root moved in. She kneeled in front of him, “Hey, Harold. What do you say we get you back to your apartment? Maybe you can get some rest…”

When he didn’t even look up at her, she continued, “Maybe we’ll hear from John in the morning…”

“Please don’t patronize me…” Harold stood up and limped over to grab his coat. “Don’t try to find me…” He threw his coat over his shoulders and headed up the stairs.

#

Harold went back to where everything had gone down. Fusco was there, heading the investigation.

The detective saw him standing behind the yellow tape and walked over to him.

“Have you found… him…?” Harold asked hopefully.

“No…” Fusco sighed, “I’ve got people searching as far as five blocks in each direction… so if…” Fusco stopped himself, “He’ll turn up.”

“Thank you, detective.” Harold turned around and started to limp off, back to his apartment. “Please keep me updated,” he added despondently before he turned the corner.

#

It had been four days since John had gone missing. They hadn’t heard anything.

Harold hadn’t left his apartment. The days seemed to bleed together. He had no appetite for food or drink and really had no idea how long it had been or what day it was. He only knew it was night or day by the light that came and went through the windows.

He hadn’t been back in the subway since he tried to find John on the camera feeds. Nor had he talked to Root or Shaw. They had tried to get him to come back to work. To give him something else to think about.

But he just couldn’t. It would be like pouring salt in the wound.

He sat in the corner of his room, sobbing.

Dried tears stained his blue dress shirt, the same one he was wearing the day John disappeared. He had no desire to keep up his appearance… there was no one he wanted to impress… not anymore.

He hadn’t said his name out loud. Hadn’t admitted that he was gone.

Part of him still hoped that he would still appear suddenly. He would contact them in some way or show up on his doorstep.

But the other part knew John was probably getting tortured by Samaritan in some warehouse or secret facility. Either that or he was…

Harold rubbed his eyes and got up. He went to the kitchen to get his pills. Falling to sleep on hardwood floors was hell on his body.

But he didn’t really care anymore.

That wasn’t anything compared to the pain in his heart from losing the main person in his life he cared about anymore.

He hobbled over to the counter and opened the bottle of pills.

He emptied the bottle onto the counter and looked down, staring at them.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it before.

Ending it.

He’d failed and John was likely dead because of him. Living with the constant pain in his hip and neck was one thing, but this crushing guilt and feeling of loss was just too much agony.

He scooped them up and held them tightly in his hand. He took a deep breath… and then the door opened.

“Harold…”

Harold’s heart skipped a beat.

It couldn’t be. He didn’t want to turn around. Because if he did and he was imagining things… it would break him further.

“Harold…” A sound of uneven footsteps on the floor and then a gentle, but strong hand found its way to his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

It was the raspy, smooth voice that he thought he would never hear again. The hand on his shoulder, a warm, heavy reassurance.

He closed his eyes, “Is it really you…?” He was entirely unaware of the hot tears that ran down his face and dripped off the bridge of his nose.

“Yes...”

Harold choked out a sob and finally turned around, not able to keep himself from the vision that he only thought he would only ever see again in his dreams.

Harold blinked. Stared. Blinked some more.

“John,” he whispered reverently. The ocean blue eyes, the salt and pepper hair, the cheekbones…  

“Hey…” John smiled and Harold felt like the world stopped. John’s voice cut through the fog in his mind.

Tears welled up in Harold’s eyes again, even though one might have thought he should have run out of them by now.

John stared at him… his eyes warm and inviting. He didn’t dare touch him; he did slowly stretch his arm... offering his hand, palm up to him.

“I'm here, it's all right…” John’s voice was incredibly soft.

Suddenly, Harold didn’t know what he felt in his chest… but he was… hitting John. His fists landed soft blows to John’s chest, his arms, anywhere they could land.

“How could you? You promised!” Harold sobbed. His eyes were clenched shut and the tears refused to stop. “I thought you were dead. You made me love you and then you left me!”

John stood there and took everything that Harold was dishing out; even the blow to the bullet wound in his shoulder.

After a few moments, Harold all but threw himself at John and they both collapsed to the floor in a heap. John’s arms wrapped around Harold and held him tightly as he sobbed.

Harold could somewhat hear John trying to murmur soothing reassurances into his ear, but he couldn’t concentrate on anything. His heart wouldn’t stop pounding in his ears and he can’t _stop crying_.

The sobbing subsided a bit and eventually, he was just lying there in John’s arms, exhausted. He was taking deep breaths, trying to calm down. He felt John press soft kisses on top of his head.

“Why didn’t you contact us?” Harold heard himself ask. He had so many questions, but that was the one that came out first.

“I couldn’t be sure it was safe… I was trying to protect you…” John ran his hand through Harold’s hair and rested his chin on the top of his head.

Harold thought for a while. He knew it was the right thing for John to do, but that didn’t mean he liked it.

“Where were you?” Harold whispered, looking straight ahead because he couldn’t seem to look at John.

“A couple places… had to get stitched up first…”

Harold’s heart dropped. He completely forgot about John getting shot. “Are you okay?”

John put his hands on Harold’s shoulders and turned him to face him, “I’m fine… I’m here… See?” he smiled and put Harold’s hands onto his face.

Harold smiled for the first time in almost a week. His thumb ran across John’s cheek, under his eye. He brought their lips together with urgency. It was bliss.

When the need for oxygen forced them apart, they remained close, pulling away enough to look at each other. A wide, dazed smile decorated Harold's face, but even that expression's beauty couldn't compare to the happiness that lit up his eyes.

“I thought I’d lost you…” Harold huffed, his forehead fell to meet John’s.

“I know… I’m sorry…”

Harold couldn't help but take John's lips in another kiss, one much softer but still leaving them both breathless with the raw emotion transferred through it.

They broke apart again and this time Harold punched John again. “Don’t ever do that again…”

“Okay…”

“Okay…” Harold whispered and his head fell to rest against John’s chest, breathing in his scent… listening to his heart beat strong beneath his skin.

They stayed like that for a while. Just sitting there in silence. Harold’s head now resting on John’s shoulder, his face nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

Harold fell asleep like that. He hadn’t slept in a few days and he was exhausted. His eyes slipped shut and he snuggled in closer to John, not wanting to move an inch because he was afraid if he did… this would all be his imagination and John would disappear.

John wrapped his arm around the smaller man, pushed his hair back from his forehead, and tried to wipe the dried tears from his face.

“Thank you, John…”

“Hmm?” John asked, his cheek pressed up against Harold’s forehead.

“For coming back,” Harold whispered.

John smiled, a tear coming to his eye, “Always, Harold.”


End file.
